


Creep Motel (The Love Shack Remix)

by ghostboi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, First Time, Lust Potion/Spell, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Motels, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Dean, Prompt Fic, Sex Magic, Smut, Somnophilia, Spells & Enchantments, Top Dean, Tu'Er Shen, Wincest - Freeform, dubcon, dubcon due to magic, magic no wait i mean a prompt made me write it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 13:25:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5786767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostboi/pseuds/ghostboi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Wanna touch you so fucking bad, Dean,” Sam muttered, confusion furrowing his brow and lust on his face, “Want you to fuck me. I don’t – don’t know what’s going on –“<br/>They had stayed in some weird places, but this one took the proverbial <s>cake</s> pie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creep Motel (The Love Shack Remix)

**Author's Note:**

> [prompt: "Okay, I want Dean/Sam sex. Just lots of sex. First time, pref. Maybe in a some kind of room or house that has some kind of strange lust spell cast on it, and they can't keep their hands off of each other and just keep jumping right back into bed together. Something like that. But with a happy ending or I'll cry! JUST SEX ME UP BABY."] lol sigh, why do I write for these prompts?  
> Hope this (all smut, no storyline) piece of nonsense will suffice!

Sometimes they came across a case that went relatively smooth, and they were able to dash in, finish it quickly and with little problem, and be done with it.

This had not been one of those times.

The ghost they had faced down had been old, and strong, and _angry_. Oh, they finished her off, finally, it just wasn’t as easy as they had hoped. Dean nearly lost an eye from a candlestick she had sent flying in his direction at one point, and Sam had a nice big bruise in the shape of an old glass ashtray near his temple. They had finished the job, though, managing to burn the wedding dress in the upstairs closet which was holding her in the old house. 

The brothers were exhausted when they pulled into one of the town’s motels. It was nearly midnight, and both men wanted to fall into bed and sleep. Dean raised a brow as he pulled into the parking lot: it was almost full. They had passed two more motels with full lots on their way to this one.

“Could try that place across town?” Sam suggested, wincing as he rubbed his aching temple.

“We’ll see if they have anything left here,” Dean opened the Impala’s door, “Some kind of convention going on around here or what?"

There _was_ an art and crafts festival going on in town this weekend, the desk clerk informed Dean, which was why most of the rooms were booked. In fact, they only had one left. Dean shoved a credit card across the counter and muttered, “We’ll take it.”

He was ready to get some sleep.

He half-turned as the bell above the door jingled, and Sam entered the small lobby/office. The big man moved to join him at the counter, and Dean winced in sympathy as he saw the purple-black bruise at the man’s temple. He turned to take back the card the clerk handed him, and found the Asian man’s eyes on Sam, also. On the bruise on Sam’s head, more precisely. The man stared at his brother for a moment, before shifting his gaze to Dean.

Dean had the uncomfortable feeling that the man thought he was some kind of wife-beater sort, and had put that bruise on Sam’s face. The clerk shoved over a credit card receipt for him to sign, still glaring at him with that disapproving look in his eyes.

“What?” Dean demanded when he had signed the receipt and dropped the pen to the desk, “I didn’t hit him!”

He stared, mouth slightly agape, as the clerk snorted and muttered, “If you say so.” The man’s eyes returned to Sam as his glare disappeared, replaced by a softer look and a warm smile.

“If you need anything at all,” the man told Sam, “You just let me know, hon.”  
“Uh.. Thank you,” Sam nodded and graced him with a smile, which the clerk returned. The man’s eyes shifted back to Dean and the warmth disappeared. 

“Your key,” the clerk – Bryan, his nametag read – shoved the key across the counter to Dean, “ _Sir_.” 

Dean stared at him for a moment before shaking his head and snatching up the key. “C’mon, Sammy,” he muttered, turning to leave the office. 

“Do you believe that?” the older Winchester grumbled as they crossed the lot to get their duffel bags out of the Impala, “I think he thought I hit you!”  
He shot the big man a glare as Sam chuckled and shot back,  
“He seemed nice to me.”

“Shut up, Sam.”

They opened the motel door, bags over their shoulders, and stepped inside. Sam flipped on the light and raised his head; he halted in the doorway, and Dean walked into his back. “Sorry,” he muttered, stepping forward so his brother could enter the room. 

Dean moved around him to inspect the room; he halted also as he spotted the bed. One bed. One king-size bed.

Finally, he shrugged a shoulder and reminded, “Last room Grouchy Smurf back there had.”

It wouldn’t be the first time in their lives that they had shared a bed, and probably wouldn’t be the last. The room itself was dated, but at least it wasn’t one of the gaudier, themed rooms they had stayed in. No cow skulls above the door or mirrors on the ceiling, thankfully.

Dean dropped his duffel on the wooden table in the corner and dug through it for a moment. He pulled out a small bottle of ibuprofen a minute later, which he tossed to his brother. He stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt as Sam went into the bathroom, and crossed the room to collapse on the bed.

The exhausted man was almost asleep when he felt the bed shift as Sam crawled in next to him. “Night, Sam,” he murmured, eyes closed and arm thrown over them. His brother muttered goodnight, and he fell asleep.

When Dean woke several hours later, his head was fuzzy and he was pressed against a warm body. He blinked in the darkness of the room, trying to orient himself. After a moment, he remembered who was sharing a bed with him – Sam. He realized at about the same time that he was pressed against the bigger man’s back, arm slung over Sam’s waist. He thought about shifting away and putting some space between them, but his brother was warm and he couldn’t hold his eyes open. He would move away in a minute, he thought, right before slipping back into sleep.

The second time he woke, the digital clock on the table next to Sam’s side of the bed read 4:33 a.m. Dean blinked at it blearily, staring at it over Sam’s shoulder, before dropping his head back down on the pillow. His eyes slipped closed as he shifted, tightening his arm around his brother’s waist and pressing his hips forward, against the other’s ass.

Wait, he was doing what now? 

Dean’s eyes flew open again and he went still, blinking against the darkness. Had he just -? Was he -? Was he lying here humping his sleeping brother? What the hell?! He jerked his arm off the other and scooted back away from him, rubbing his hand across his face.

He would chalk that one up to being half-asleep and never, ever think about it again. Ever. (Except maybe when he was alone and maybe jerking off. Other than that, though, never.)  
He frowned, even as his eyes closed, as he realized that he was way less warm now; Sam was practically a walking furnace. He tugged one of the blankets up over himself as sleep fought to claim him again.

6:43 a.m., the digital clock read.  
Dean was pressed up against Sam’s back again, arm draped over his little brother’s waist and hips pressed firmly against Sam’s ass. The brief thought that he should move away touched his mind, but he was so tired. Sam shifted, snuggling back against him, and Dean’s decision was made for him. Sam was warm, he was tired, he was going back to sleep.

He was grinding forward, against Sam, when he woke again sometime later. Dean blinked, biting down on his bottom lip as he realized he was hard and aching and he was pressed against his brother’s firm ass. 

What the hell was he doing? He needed to stop, to get out of this bed, right now. 

He bit back a low groan as Sam hummed in pleasure and rocked back against him; his arm tightened around his brother and he thrust forward, pressing his hips flush against the other. 

Realization struck Dean about the time he clutched Sam’s hip and jerked the other man hard against him: something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. Humping his brother was not a common occurrence; hell, it wasn’t an occurrence at all! Yet here he was, rocking against the other man. He shook his head, which was still fuzzy and still sleep-heavy, and told himself to move away from the bigger man. Sam shifted back against him with a soft moan, however, and Dean’s fingers tightened on his hip. His brother was still seemingly asleep, hell he was barely awake himself. Didn’t seem to prevent him from molesting the other man in his sleep, did it now? 

“The fuck’s going on?” he muttered, trying to come to his senses and stop. Why the hell was his head so fuzzy, and him so tired, still? Why couldn’t he drag himself out of the fog of sleep and wake up? More importantly, _why couldn’t he move back and stop touching his brother? ___Dean’s foggy thoughts derailed as Sam shifted back against him, trapping his cock: a low groan escaped his throat and he rocked forward, slipping his hand from Sam’s hip to press it against his brother’s dick. Sam was hard beneath the thin layer of boxers, and he jerked his hips forward, arching into Dean’s touch.

Dean breathed a soft “Oh, fuck,” as he began to come, sudden and unexpected, his dick trapped between his stomach and Sam’s ass. He felt his brother shaking against him, a moan escaping the other’s lips, and realized just before he slipped back into sleep that Sam had just cum, too.

 

“Dean..”

Dean opened his eyes as Sam’s voice penetrated the thick fog of sleep. “’m ‘wake,” he mumbled, eyes half-closed. He didn’t miss that sunlight was flickering between the blinds; it was daylight outside. They opened again as Sam started again,

“Dean, what’s going on?”

“Hmm?”

“Why – I can’t – can’t stay awake,” his brother shifted to face him, blinking in an attempt to keep his hazel eyes open, “What’s – fuck, Dean.”

“Dunno,” he managed to push himself up on his elbow to glance around the room – nothing seemed out of place – then down at his brother. Sam looked a little afraid, a lot exhausted, and a little something else that he couldn’t quite place.

Dean huffed out a gasp as his brother’s hand landed on his stomach; the touch seared his flushed skin and sent a thrill through him. A moment later, Sam’s large hand was pressing against his cock which, he realized, was half-hard.

“Wanna touch you so fucking bad, Dean,” Sam muttered, confusion furrowing his brow and lust on his face, “Want you to fuck me. I don’t – don’t know what’s going on –“ 

Dean gasped again, body jerking in surprised pleasure as his brother shoved down the front of his boxers and gripped his hard cock. He was having the same symptoms, he realized: couldn’t seem to stay awake; confusion and disorientation; the urge to drive his dick into the man next to him.

“Lust spell?” he guessed, glancing around the room again. He jerked again, a low groan escaping his lips, as Sam’s cock suddenly rubbed up against his own aching shaft. The other man’s large hand wrapped around both of them and he began to stroke them.

“Dean,” Sam shot him a fearful, pleading look, “I’m sorry, I can’t – can’t – I need to touch you, I’m sorry.”

Dean nodded, rocking into his brother’s hand, shudders racing through him at the feel of the cock rubbing against his own. “Fuck,” he breathed, gripping Sam’s hip as the man brushed a thumb over the head of his cock, “Fuck, Sammy, gonna – “ His orgasm hit him a moment later, and he was coming on his brother’s hand and stomach and cock. Sam moaned, leaned in to press his face against Dean’s neck, breathed in his scent; he followed Dean over seconds later, his cum coating the older Winchester’s stomach.

Neither of them could hold their eyes open long enough to even clean themselves up.

 

The digital clock read 10:58 a.m. when Dean heard a knock at the door. He groaned and shoved himself into a sitting position, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes. His green gaze shifted to Sam – the man was sleeping next to him – and he felt his dick twitch. 

“What the fuck.”

The bewildered man raised his head as a knock sounded on the door again. He shoved himself out of the bed, staggering slightly, and wrapped a sheet around him. When the hell had he lost his boxers and t-shirt? They were lying on the floor next to the bed, but he didn’t remember removing them. His eyes shifted to Sam, and he found that his brother was also naked. He frowned and pulled one of the blankets over the man, covering him, before turning toward the door.

Dean winced, squinting against the sunlight which poured into the room, as he jerked the door open. The desk clerk, Bryan, was standing on the other side. Before he had the chance to speak, the man’s eyes roamed over him and a smirk touched his mouth.

“I suppose you’ll want the room another day, then.”

“The fuck is going on?” Dean demanded, not liking the smile on the man’s face – Bryan knew something about what was happening to them, of that he was certain. “What the hell did you do to us?” He could feel himself shaking; he could feel Sam’s cum dried on his skin; he wanted nothing more than to go back to the bed and claim his little brother in every way possible.

The man gave him another smile, showing a flash of white teeth, before nodding his head toward something in the room. Dean glanced over and froze; Sam had rolled over in his sleep, dislodging the blanket and exposing the long length of his naked body. The older Winchester swallowed as his cock jerked beneath the sheet covering him: he felt an irresistible urge to cross the room and press his body against Sam’s.

“What did you do to us?” he asked again, eyes wide as he shifted them to the clerk.  
The man only smiled once more and told him, “You look tired. You should go lie down.”  
Dean blinked at him before nodding jerkily. He _was_ tired. Fucking exhausted. His eyes followed Bryan for a moment as the man turned and walked away; he shut the door and locked it a moment later.

He dropped the sheet as he reached the bed and crawled in next to his brother. He shifted close, immediately pressing himself against the other’s back, and Sam moaned softly and arched back against him.

Dean tried to fight his way out of the fog in his head, but he couldn’t seem to focus on anything but Sam’s body. The man was gorgeous, 6’4” of firm muscle and tanned skin.  
He rocked forward, against the younger Winchester, and Sam let out a soft whine and opened his eyes.

“Not enough, Dean,” his little brother whispered, glancing over his shoulder at him. Sam’s eyes were dark with lust, the black of the pupils swallowing most of the hazel, “Need more. Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?” Dean’s voice was a growl as the lust burning low in his stomach rocketed through him. He reached around to grasp his brother’s hard cock, brushing his thumb over the head and squeezing the shaft. Sam moaned and rocked into his hand, precome slicking Dean’s palm. “You need me inside you, Sammy? Huh? Need my dick in that tight ass?”

“Yeah,” his baby brother moaned, “Dean, yes, please.”

He rocked forward, sliding his hard dick between his brother’s ass cheeks, fucking against his hot flesh. His hand tightened on Sam’s dick and he stroked once, twice, a third time, leaning in to bite hard on his brother’s shoulder as he did. Sam cried out in pleasure-pain and went rigid, cock swelling in Dean’s palm. A moment later he was cumming, body shaking as he shot hot fluid over the older man’s hand and his own stomach.

Dean hummed in approval and swiped his fingers through the hot, thick mess on his brother’s stomach. He shoved them in his mouth to suck them clean – Sam watched, mouth open as he panted for air and eyes lust-blown. Dean swiped his fingers through the cum again, then reached down to trail his fingers down Sam’s crack. He brushed a finger over the other’s hole, and Sam whimpered and arched back against him. Another swipe of his fingers through the cum; a moment later, he was pressing a cum-coated finger into his brother’s tight little hole. He thrust into his brother for a minute, dick throbbing at the slick, wet sound it made, then added a second finger. He pressed in – it was tighter, Sam’s now-slick hole clenching around his fingers – but he continued pushing deep.

When he began fucking his brother with two fingers, Sam moaned his name and begged, “More, please, more.”

Dean growled, lust taking over him, and pulled his fingers free. He swiped them through the mess on his brother’s stomach, coating them, then reached back down to press two fingers into the younger man. He had barely shoved them in before adding a third. Sam, for his part, rocked back hard against him, forcing them deeper. 

“Fuck me,” his little brother was begging now, and it sent lust unlike anything he had ever experienced sparking through him, “Fuck me fuck me fuck me, please Dean, need you inside me, _need_ it..”

Sam moaned in protest when Dean jerked his fingers free; another swipe through the cum he had been using as lube, and then he was slicking it over his aching cock, rubbing it over the head and down his shaft. He groaned, fucking up into his own hand and Sam’s cum, which was coating his palm. Finally, he pressed the head of his dick against his brother’s hole. 

Dean pressed his dick in, barely giving his brother time to adjust before he was shoving deeper. The sound of pain-pleasure from Sam’s lips sent another stab of lust through him, and he shoved in hard, burying himself completely in the other man. Sam gasped a pained breath, body going tense, and Dean gripped the other’s hips hard, bruising the skin.

When his little brother rocked back against him, he growled and began to fuck the man, thrusting harder into him with each passing minute. 

“Fuck me,” Sam reached back to clutch his hip, pulling him closer, “Fuck your baby brother, fill me up, c’mon Dean, harder, own my ass..”

“Gonna fill you with my cum, baby boy,” his voice was breathless as he pounded into the younger man, “Mark you as mine. Mine, Sammy, you’re mine.”

“Yeah,” Sam moaned, shuddering as Dean reached around to grip his hard dick, “All yours, Dean, only ever been yours.” The promise tipped him over the edge and Dean began to cum with a low cry, grinding his dick deep and filling his brother with his seed. He stroked Sam as he did, and his little brother was following him over a moment later; the force of his orgasm had him shooting on his chest and face.

Dean continued grinding into his brother, drawing out the pleasure of his orgasm, as he rubbed his hand through the new mess on Sam’s chest. He rubbed in into Sam’s skin as he pressed his lips against the back of his brother’s neck, nipping and sucking. Sam hummed in contentment, tightening his muscles around Dean’s cock and drawing a shudder of pleasure from the older man.

He had barely slipped out of his brother and wrapped his arms around him when sleep claimed them both again, suddenly and without warning.

 

The digital clock read 4:54 pm when Dean woke again. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, head clear and that foggy, sleep-heavy feeling completely gone. He glanced over at Sam, watching as the other man blinked open his eyes.

“What -?” Sam sat up in the bed and looked over at him; a flush touched the younger man’s cheeks as he remembered what had happened between them. “I – Dean – I’m sorry –“ 

He leaned over suddenly and pressed his mouth to his brother’s, fingers catching in Sam’s hair. The younger man moaned softly and responded to the kiss, parting his lips to allow Dean’s tongue entrance. 

They kissed for a while, long, slow, exploratory kisses, mapping one another’s mouths and learning each other’s tastes. Hands slipped over skin, doing the same: learning, mapping out sensitive areas, claiming.

When they finally parted, Dean shot his little brother a soft smile. “Been wanting to taste you for – hell, a lifetime, Sammy.” The younger man swallowed at the words and whispered,  
“Me, too, Dean.”

“C’mon,” he murmured, climbing out of the bed and reaching for Sam’s hand, “Shower, then we’re going to talk to that desk clerk.”

They were standing in front of the desk clerk a bit under an hour later. The man lowered the book he was reading as they entered the small lobby/office; he studied them for a moment before a smile touched his mouth.

“You want to explain what’s going on, _Bryan_?” Dean asked as they halted in front of the desk. 

“Tu’Er Shen,” Bryan responded, smile still in place.

“What?” Dean stared at the man, eyes narrowed, and Bryan repeated,  
“Tu’Er Shen. It’s my name. Well, it’s what I’m called in some cultures.”

Dean glanced at Sam, whom shrugged a shoulder and shook his head. Neither of them were familiar with the name.

The clerk gave them a patient smile as he informed them, “Some call me a god of love and lust between men with.. tendencies for other men. God is a bit of flattery, though, I’m more like a lower deity.” 

“Men with –“ Dean started. He scowled and shook his head, “I don’t have _tendencies_ for other men, Tu’Er whatever the hell your name is, and I’m pretty sure Sam doesn’t, either.”

“No,” Bryan – Tu’Er Shen – shot them both a smile, “Only for one another.”

Sam, whom had been silent up until now, asked, a scowl of his own in place, “You lure men here and cast some kind of lust spell on them? Is that it?”

“Not quite,” the clerk leaned back in his chair as he studied them – these two were dangerous, he was well aware of that. It was written in their very auras, as was that streak of protectiveness and possessiveness toward one another.

“If there aren’t mutual feelings already, beneath the surface, the room hasn’t any affect on those who stay there,” the man – deity – explained, “Even then, the feelings must be strong, concrete, or the charms haven’t any affect.”

“I should put a bullet in your head right now,” Dean growled, pulling his gun from its spot, tucked into the back of his jeans. 

“You could,” Tu’Er Shen agreed, “but I don’t think you will. I’m not trying to cause harm, only to help people realize what lies between them.”

“We’re _brothers_ ,” Sam told the man, “How the hell is that supposed to help us?”

“Brothers or not,” the clerk shrugged and smiled, “There are feelings between you and now you’re aware of them. How you choose to act on them is up to you both. I would, though, suggest pursuing them. Even before you spent the night in that room, your feelings for one another were obvious.”

The brothers exchanged glances, communicating with looks and facial expressions. A moment later, Dean shoved his gun back into his waistband. He ran a hand through his hair and huffed an exasperated sigh, then raised his eyes to Sam. His brother was watching him with uncertainty painting his features, and maybe a little fear.

“Uh uh,” he shook his head and stepped suddenly into Sam’s space, “Don’t even think it. I don’t hate you, I don’t regret it, and no feeling guilty.” He raised his hand and cupped his brother’s face, smiling softly at the man, then leaned in and brushed his mouth across Sam’s.

“Cupid over there might be jacking with people’s heads, but he’s right about one thing: I’ve wanted you for a long damn time, Sam.”

His green gaze shifted to Tu’Er Shen, and his features hardened slightly. “Jacking with people’s heads and feelings? Not cool. Doesn’t always work out like it will with us, even if there _are_ mutual feelings. So you need to stop. You want to hook people up? Open a dating service.”

Before the desk clerk could speak, he finished, “If you’re still doing this next time we come through here, we’ll close you down ourselves.”

The older Winchester caught his brother’s hand in his then, and led Sam out the office door. “C’mon, Sammy,” he tugged the other behind him, “Let’s get our shit and get the hell out of the love shack.”

As they entered the room to grab their things so they could leave, Sam turned to face him. “What now?” the younger man asked softly.

Dean’s lips curved into a smirk as he stepped forward and pressed against his brother. He caught Sam’s mouth with his own, kissed the man until the other was breathless. He pulled back finally and, licking his lips, said,

“Now we find some other love shack, minus the crazy spells and pervy deities, and do a little exploring of our own –“ his eyes roamed over Sam’s body, “- if you get what I’m saying.”

Sam huffed a laugh and asked as he grabbed his duffel bag, “Why do I get the feeling that you’re insatiable?”

“You’re about to find out.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tu'Er Shen (The Leveret Spirit), also known as Tu Shen (or the 'rabbit god'), was a Chinese deity which "watched over homosexuals"  
> https://queeraday.wordpress.com/2014/06/24/tu-er-shen/  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tu%27er_Shen


End file.
